


The P.A.M Initiative

by thedorkyastra



Category: Fallout 4
Genre: A.I. Learning a little about being human, Ableist Language, Childhood Sweethearts, Coming Out, Coming of Age, Deaf Character, Domestic Fluff, Established Relationship, Exploration of Minor Characters, Family Fluff, Gay Male Character, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, LGBTQ Female Character of Color, LGBTQ Themes, Non-binary character, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Period Typical Bigotry, Pre-War, Slice of Life, Sole Survivor Family
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-26
Updated: 2021-01-11
Packaged: 2021-03-10 07:34:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 10,447
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27719615
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thedorkyastra/pseuds/thedorkyastra
Summary: /“Fifteen years? Are you sure?”His guest took a sip of his old-fashioned, “I wouldn’t come to you with this if I wasn’t. I’ve run the numbers over and over. Inputted every variable. I don’t see a way out of this, General.”/There are only 10 years until the nuclear apocalypse and it's up to a team and their robot to predict it and make sure that doesn't happen, but as we all know they don't get to succeed. Follow P.A.M. and the team behind her as they navigate her creation and pre-war America on the edge of the apocalypse. This is an exploration of the world at the time and what makes Pam, Pam!
Relationships: Female Sole Survivor/Male Sole Survivor
Comments: 6
Kudos: 6





	1. PROLOGUE

**Author's Note:**

> This story makes use of written-military time and you can read about it here: https://special-ops.org/military-time-military-date-time-group-explained/
> 
> But basically, it looks like this: Day/Time/Time Zone/Month/Year and looks like (26)(0200)(R)(NOV)(20) but without the parentheses haha.

General Kennedy looked out the window of his study with furrowed brows and focused eyes, but the beautiful scenery of spring in bloom was lost on him and the cigar in his hand was mostly forgotten. No words had been exchanged between him and his guest for the last fifteen minutes, but the other man didn’t seem bothered at all by this fact as he shared in the General’s whiskey and helped himself to a lemon peel. His mind was still reeling, but he was never one to turn away from a challenge when it confronted him and he was wasting enough time as it was contemplating the greater implications of what his guest had just told him. And then, after that. Why the hell was the man bothering at all? What did he have to gain from any of this? Kennedy turned to finally face his guest after the revelation had set in and set down the cigar to pour himself his own glass. He was going to need it for a conversation like this.

“Fifteen years? Are you sure?”

His guest took a sip of his old-fashioned, “I wouldn’t come to you with this if I wasn’t. I’ve run the numbers over and over. Inputted every variable. I don’t see a way out of this, General.”

"And I'm supposed to-" he gestured vaguely with his cup, "believe all this? How do I know that this isn't some sort of hair-brained scheme like Vault-Tec to get us running to the hills like a bunch of pansies? Hell, I'm surprised you're not charging me by the hour for sitting in my own damn home."  
  
"If you really didn't believe in what I was saying you would have thrown me out of here already." His voice was cool, confident, and his eyes were locked with Kennedy's in solid determination. Kennedy had seen that look before and it wasn't to be trifled with. He regretted making that deal with this devil in a suit every god damn day in his life, but here he was on the precipice again. "You believed me once, General, and I know you're not stupid enough to turn me away now."

In his younger days and maybe from another man that remark would have sent Kennedy raving mad. He considered this and the rest of his guest's words letting a slice of his pride get indignantly close to mouthing off right back at him. He bit it back and took another sip of his drink. “... This isn’t free, is it, House?”

He chuckled, “No, General. I propose a mutually beneficial trade.”

“Why am I not surprised.” Kennedy switched the whiskey for the cigar. 

“You tell me how many nukes are pointed at Las Vegas and I’ll give you all of my calculations and research,” he pulled out a file of papers out of his leather briefcase and slid them across the table, “along with your only chance at a saving grace.”

“Careful with that giving spirit or I might have to call you Mr. Claus.” Kennedy considered the file with contempt and tapped the ash of his cigar in the tray. 

“Nuclear annihilation is bad for business. Unless, of course, you’re _Vault-Tec_." House said it so easy as if the idea itself hadn't been daunting America and the greater world for generations. If anything it sounded like a minor inconvenience. "So think of this as more of an investment in humanity’s future.”

Kennedy chuckled darkly under his breath, “Unless you’re Vault-Tec.” He sighed deeply and settled into the plush of his leather chair watching the smoke of his cigar swirl up into the air and disappear. The sun was starting to set and filled the room with a beautiful golden glow that glinted off of old books with gold inlay and the mantle of the fireplace. He thought of his family but especially of his grandson downstairs just barely six and so much hope glittering in those wide blue eyes. He wanted to believe Junior and those lame ducks in D.C. could find a solution to their current political predicament, but the President and all his ambassadors seemed bound and determined to damn them further to hell. Kennedy wanted to believe there was a hope not because he had any, but because without it he knew that House’s future was set in stone before the war even began. 

Kennedy looked back to House's dark eyes, a hidden fire behind the cool facade, and took a deep inhale of his cigar before letting out, “Alright, Mr. House, you got yourself a deal. This saving grace of yours better be good.”

House smiled and outstretched his hand to seal it. Kennedy felt the inexplicable urge to punch his teeth in, “You won’t regret it.”

* * *

_[261100RAUG66 AUDIO TRANSCRIPT: GENERAL **[** **REDACTED]** _ _AND DR. **[** _ **_REDCATED]_ ** _]_

_“Hello, Dr. **[** **R** **EDACTED]**._ _Thank you for meeting me on such late notice."  
_

_"...Not a problem, sir. Curious as to why a Four-Star General is conducting my yearly review."_

_The General chuckles and there is a scraping of chairs, "I'm not concerned about your classroom etiquette, doctor, but Dr.Reif assures me that you're a brilliant lab director."  
  
"I see. So what is this about then?"  
  
"Let me cut to the chase, we need you to build a robot_ _capable of **[** **REDACTED]**_ _._ _One **[** **REDACTED]**_ _, in particular. We need to know the likelihood of **[** **REDACTED].**_ _”_

_“... Shit. Is it really that bad?”_

_“Bad enough that we’ve been trying to run projections for months, but nothing gives us a clear answer of when.”_

_“I don’t see how I figure in this, General. I hardly recall doing anything to get the military’s attention, not to mention build something like_ that _.”_

 _“I wouldn't call the Code Defender "hardly anything", **[** **REDACTED]** _ _.”_

_“I don’t see how that relates. What are you looking for?"_

_“You’re a brilliant mind as far as I can tell, doctor, and not only does the security on this project need to be airtight, but my intel tells me that you’re the best egghead to get the code done. Now I know absolutely jack-all about robots, but if the assholes I've been paired with know anything which I think they do then they're right about you being director."_

_“So, make it an impenetrable wall, code the thing, and direct the twats. Who else is working on this?”_

_“If all goes according to plan you’ll be working with an old colleague. You’re familiar with Mrs. **[** **REDACTED]** _ _?”_

_“Dr. **[** **REDACTED]**? Hah, she’ll never agree to this. She hates your type. And the government. I’m surprised she’s not on some sort of blacklist.” _

_“I wouldn't worry about her. I’ll give her an offer she can’t refuse.”  
  
"Don't try and tell me that's all you're giving me to work with."  
  
"You'll have a team handpicked by the **[** **REDACTED]** to handle the analytics is what I'm told. Then we'll find you whoever the hell else you need."_

_There’s a long pause._

_“I don’t have a choice here, do I?”_

_“... This is a free country, doctor. We all have a choice.”_

_“Hah, a “free country”. You sound like my baba.” A deep sigh. “Fine.”_

_“Welcome to the project, doctor. I'll handle your resignation from the Institute so you can go home and take the last break you're gonna have for the next few years."_

_[END OF TRANSCRIPT]_

_[311500ROCT66 AUDIO TRANSCRIPT: GENERAL **[** **REDACTED]** _ _AND DR. **[** **REDACTED]** _ _]_

_“General **[** **REDACTED]**. This is a_ pleasant _surprise_. _To what do I owe the pleasure?”_

 _“Cut the bootlicking crap, **[** **REDACTED]**_ _. You already know why I’m here. This merely a formality.”_

 _“I assume this is about the position of project lead on Project: Oracle?_ _It took those guys at the **[** **REDACTED]** long_ _enough. However, I wasn't really expecting you. Sacked with a desk job already?"_

_The General chuckles, “Get your fill in now, **[** **REDACTED]**. The position of director has been filled. Something about you're "inability" to "play nice with others" and an all-around lack of leadership qualities. On top of being an untrustworthy maggot who thinks too highly of himself and loves the sound of his own voice more than anything. Summarizing of course."_

_“What-"_

_“Oh, and don't try to gun for being the right hand either. You're only holding that permission until the real brains of the operation gets in. Your lead requested a statistician, so I’m getting him the best. No accounting for taste.”_

_“That position-”_

_“Wasn’t yours to begin with, **[** **REDACTED]**._ _As far as the_ **[** ** _REDACTED]_ ** _is concerned you’re better working for them than being a thorn in their side. Serves you right for sticking your nose in this mess. You should've known better.”_

_“Tch. Since when were you their dog?”_

_“Since I had the misfortune of being acquaintances with one **[**_ ** _ **R** EDACTED] _ ** _who proposed this damned thing. Now I'd try to watch that damn filthy mouth of yours in the future since we're going to have the equal misfortune or working together for the next who knows how long. Pack your bags. You're being relocated to **[** **REDACTED]** effective immediately_ _.”_

_“What?”_

_“You'll be briefed on your cover story on the way. Hope you like making coffee. I take mine with sugar, no cream.”_

_[END TRANSCRIPT]_

  
  


_[030900RFEB67 AUDIO TRANSCRIPT: GENERAL **[** **REDACTED]** _ _AND DR. **[** **REDACTED]** _ _]_

_A door closes._

_“Mrs. **[** **REDACTED]**_ _, take a seat.”_

_“You’re fucking kidding me. I should’ve known.”_

_“Easy, doc. Just hear me out. This ain’t one of your protests.”_

_“Don’t start with me. Don’t you-” a deep breath. “I can’t be bought, General. We’ve been through this. I’m not building the military some death machine that it’ll turn around and use on its citizens.”_

_“ **[** **REDACTED]**_ _, I know that… well we haven’t done a good job at protecting our citizens. I want to do better. I want our nation to get passed this road bump. I hate those shit-for-brains in D.C. who are too busy trying to protect their own asses to actually do their damn jobs. But I’m just a soldier- a damn good one, but fighting the commies head-on isn’t going to work anymore. So I need the eggheads like you. And I think you could use us too.”_

 _Paper is slid across a table. Footsteps come closer and Dr. **[** **REDACTED]** _ _sits down at the table._

 _“ **[** **REDACTED]** _ _Academy?”_

_“I understand your daughter has an affliction-”_

_“She’s deaf.”_

_“Right, well, I also understand that you haven't had the time or resources to homeschool her so you've been running into some issues with the public school she's been attending. They've been refusing to teach-"  
  
"ASL. They're insisting that she should just get hearing aids and, yes, I'm well aware of the bullying issue. Thank you for reminding me, General."  
_

_"I'm sorry for the situation you've found yourselves in Mrs. **[** **REDACTED]** -"_

_"Doctor."_

_"Excuse me, doc. I want to offer you an alternative." The General pauses before continuing, "T_ _he Academy goes from kindergarten to high school. They have experience dealing with all kinds of children. She’d have teachers that could handle her condition and a close-knit group of kids to grow up with. Not to mention one of the best educations in the country. So good I send my grandson there.”_

_“... I can’t afford this.”_

_“But the military can.” General **[** **REDACTED]** _ _chuckles, “Use our resources, doc, and in return help your country be better. Change doesn’t always come in protests and marches. Sometimes you have to be a part of the system to change it.”_

_"If you knew anything of my record you would know that-"_

_"That you haven't been to a single dissenting protest, march, or organization meeting since the birth of your daughter in '60. Haven't even sent your immediate family a Christmas card since you moved out at the age of eighteen with your highschool sweetheart." Another long pause, "Doc, I'm not trying to scare you, but I need you to know that I, and the people I'm working with, know exactly how important your daughter and your_ husband _are to you. I know you're not a damn Commie and I also know that you're smart enough to beg the recommendation of a man smarter than you and all the other geniuses I've been corraling combined, but this country isn't going to be any safer or_ better _with you slaving away at a company that doesn't understand your merits, or care about the time you want to spend with your family." Long pause. "What do you do there?"_

_"...Basic programming."_

_"Your name on anything there, doc?"  
_

_"That wouldn't change while working with you. **[** **REDACTED]** got wiped off the face of the planet after being mysteriously visited by a man of your exact description. Moved apartments, changed his landline, what power company he pays his bills to, and as I've heard it the university took his name off of the credits for any projects he was on. So that's what you want to turn me and my family into? Ghosts? What would even be the point of this all if **[** **REDACTED]** has to spend her entire childhood living a lie? Will she be allowed any chances at all? God certainly knows that this country has made it impossible beyond her disability to-" a deep breath as Dr. **[** **REDACTED]** calms down, "I appreciate your offer but-"_  
  
_"That was his choice. I would never force you and your family to stop living your lives for the sake of this project. Oracle is something, doc, but it's not worth having your family giving up everything you and your husband have worked so hard to make. I can't always promise that you'll be home in time for dinner or that you're never going to have to tell you're little girl a lie, but I'd never take you away from them. Yes, your name won't be in the papers until long after the fact when this war is finished and we can all go home and rest, but I know that's not what you care about. Give me chance, doc, and I'll make it worth your while, and if I gotta expand the budget some to make sure your tyke goes to the best schools in the country then you damn right I'll make it happen._ "

_Dr. **[** **REDACTED]** slams her fist on the table, "Why are you fighting so hard for me, General? A.I. specialists aren't in short supply anymore. I'm sure that you could find someone with much more experience than me and without so many strings attached."_

_"Every team needs a heart, **[** **REDACTED]** , and you're it. This could very well the future of humanity as we know it and without you... I don't think we stand a chance."_

_“...Heh... I'm America's last hope? Not sure how you managed to sell that."_

_"One of the many perks about being a secret government project is that I don't have to deal with all the bureaucratic bullshit of the FBI or the CIA. Hell, even the military has more red tape than the **[** **REDACTED]** , so I get to call the shots. As long as we don't step on their toes and make a big fuss. I told them no promises."_

_"Will my family be safe?"_

_"'Round the clock surveillance and they'll never even notice."_

_She scoffs, "Perfect. Surveillance. I thought that bill got revoked."_

_"Like I said, no red tape."_

_"... Will the pay be better than **[REDACTED]**?"_

_“Hah, for being a part of a secret government project? Just make sure you don't get too excited and make my robot into a person while you're in there and we'll set you up for life, doc. We'll blow whatever they're paying you right out the water."_

_A deep sigh, “God, I can't believe I'm saying this. Fine. Okay. Okay, I’ll do it, but I swear-"_

_He chuckles, “Happy to have you on the team, doc_ _.”_

_[END OF TRANSCRIPT]_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Without further ado, I hope you enjoyed the prologue! This story will be focusing on the scientist you heard from at the bottom and PAM and I'm super excited to share this with you all. I have to give a HUGE shoutout to bluegrasskitty for giving me the confidence and inspiration to write and also post this story and hopefully the many more to come. If you haven't checked her out you definitely should! My top three faves are... probably the most popular tbh so maybe that makes me a bit basic but check out Working Class Hero, Walking Contradiction, and Angel Blue! 
> 
> Important Note: Pre-War fallout and our own current day is steeped in racism, sexism, and all kinds of bigotry I think it's important to note that these will show up in the text as a good portion of the characters that the story focuses on are either people of color, assigned female at birth, or disabled. This story is not *about* any one of those things as it's definitely not my place to write about especially when I'm trying to write about Pam's backstory essentially, but I didn't want to pretend that it didn't exist in Pre-War Fallout America because it certainly did and it would affect the characters and their interactions especially as tensions rise.
> 
> If you do not want to deal with any of that crap while reading fanfic then I hold zero judgment in you not wanting to read more and while I'm doing my own research and doing my best to sensitively portray all of these identities even tho it's not the focus of the story I'll not be offended if you wanna tell me I'm doing it wrong/need to do it better. I love to learn I promise and I definitely don't want to continue trends of shitty representation and writing of any characters with these identities!
> 
> Anyway thank you for reading and I look forward to seeing you guys in the next chapter!


	2. [2067]

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0fAQhSRLQnM 
> 
> A song that will be mentioned in the story!

**[Jun 19]**

P.A.M did not feel, nor did it understand what it was like to feel, and in the 2 months that it’d been what Dr. Ishikawa called “alive”, it’d never even considered it. Nor did it have reason to. P.A.M’s primary directive was to collect data and make predictions based on that data and the statistical models built for it. Which made it very good at chess. Chess, at its core, was all probabilities, with a clear set of parameters and ultimately a limited number of possible moves and strategies. Every time a player made a move it would run through all the possible moves based on probability and then all possible moves that could be made after that point constantly adapting it's strategy as the game went on and analyzing the moves taken to update it's dataset to make better strategies. This methodology could then be applied situationally to the hypothetical scenarios it's creators ran through P.A.M. to varying levels of success.

That was as far as it’s knowledge went and appeared to be the apparent problem that could not be solved. It understood actions taken by people as actions, but could not make sense of their purpose. Why the entities surrounding it chose to do things counterintuitive to their end goals thus ignoring logic was beyond it's processing ability and it could not make a “guess”.

Despite knowing this, Dr. Ishikawa persistently asked her illogical questions, even when data presented should lead to the conclusion that she would know better.

“Good morning Pam! How are you feeling today?”

"Initiating Machine/Human Interface…”

Dr. Ramarijan sighed, an action that P.A.M had observed to be incredibly frequent. “Again?”

“Commencing analysis of this geographical point in space…”

“Her definition of how she’s feeling might be different than ours. Perhaps, for example, she can learn to define overheating as feeling “bad” or positive feedback loops as “good”. It doesn't have to be as binary as that, but I still think it's worth asking.”

"Bad joke, Ishikawa."

"I'd like to see you spend your nights with a six-year-old and not make at least one pun."

“Processing clearance… Dr. Ishikawa voice recognition. Processing administration query…”

“I still think you’re introducing emotion too early. Just ask it to run system diagnostics.”

“It’ll also help her interfacing. Make her more… friendly.”

“Mm, what is the saying? When pigs fly?”

"Very funny."

Dr. Ishikawa had asked this nearly every day since it had been activated, but it could not process it yesterday and without an update, it would continue not to process the request today. It understood that doing regular tests of P.A.M's programming was necessary, but it failed to understand the purpose and how effective this was without changing the variables. If Dr.Ishikawa had the goal of completing P.A.M for the Defense Intelligence Agency then what move was the question of “feeling” equivalent to? What was her strategy? It knew that humans liked to play "mind games" with their opponents to invoke emotional responses, but what was the purpose here? So, instead of trying to continue an analysis of the patterns without correlation P.A.M responded instead...

“Error. Cannot process the request. Unknown variable: feeling. Define variable or rephrase.”

“You were saying, Ishikawa. P.A.M, run a system diagnostic.”

“Processing… All systems are functioning at full capacity. No errors detected. Query. Is this the definition of feeling?”

Dr. Ishikawa shook her head, “No, Pam, that’s… that’s not quite it. It's more complex-”

“Affirmative. Updating databank…” It deleted the hypothesis from it’s growing list of possibilities.

Dr. Ishikawa turned back to her colleague, “Coffee?”

“Oh, you haven’t heard? Cpl. O’Brien broke the coffee machine. Even better, SigInt says that it’s “against regulation” to buy it from upstairs. Not even in an act of desperation is Slocum Joe’s reliable.”

“Heh… He’s not… the brightest, is he?”

“Query. Cpl. O’Brien is human. He does not have the ability to be bright. Posit. He does need to be bright.”

“Ah, it means. Well. Brightness is often associated with intelligence. I’m saying he’s not really-”

“Posit. Entity Cpl. O’Brien is an idiot.”

“Where did you learn that?!”

“Dr. Ramarijan defined “idiot” as a classification of pawn. Parameters include a deficit of intelligence. He also gave me a dataset of entities under this classification.”

“Indra.”

“I doubted a glorified chess bot knew how to process that. Clearly, I was wrong. This may be a breakthrough, Ishikawa.”

“ Indra .”

“Query. Is there an issue with the dataset?”

“Yes, Pam. Please remove “idiot” from your database.”

“Affirmative. Processing administrative request…” This was not uncommon between it’s different creators where they would have disagreements on what kind of data was essential or factual. Dr. Davidson was usually the worst “offender” (as Dr. Ishikawa phrased it). Dr. Davidson was in this way a different kind of illogical. He had a better understanding of P.A.M's current limitations which made sense since he was the expert in statistics, but he rarely considered P.A.M beyond that. Not unlike when he played chess against P.A.M, he had a pattern of capitalizing on it's past faults instead of adapting his strategy to it's new programming.

As soon as Dr. Davidson stepped through the door Dr. Ishikawa dropped her smile and swiveled back toward P.A.M's interfacing terminal. This was, as P.A.M perceived, her default state around him.

“Sorry I’m late. There was an accident on the-”

Dr. Ramarijan held up a hand, but didn’t turn around to face Dr. Davidson. “Ah! Too many personal details already.”

“C’mon, Ramarijan. What freeway I take is hardly personal.”

“Knowing you take one at all is too personal. Honestly, knowing your name is too personal. I’m surprised they didn’t give us all codenames to work under. Would have been safer. Efficient.”

“Request processed. “Idiot” has been removed from the database.”

Dr. Davidson’s brows shot up, “And I’m the unprofessional one. Jesus Christ.”

"Considering the incident with the General and all the wonderful things you apparently taught P.A.M in our absence you barely have a leg to stand on, Davidson, now get ready. We're going to be running our favorite today."

Dr. Ishikawa's frown deepened, "She's-"

"It," said Davidson as he unpacked his briefcase.

"-she's crashed every time we've run it so far. Update, or no, I don't think she has the ability to run it yet. Glorified chess bot, remember?"

"What happened to your nauseating optimism from earlier, Ishikawa?" The doctors shared a look, "If P.A.M can handle you pestering every day about feelings it can't process then it can learn not to shut down when we ask it to run the attack scenario. Now turn on the holo recorder." Dr. Ishikawa did as she was told and switched places with Dr. Ramarijan at the interfacing terminal.

"P.A.M., run the 'USSR China Attack' scenario."

“Processing…” A collective breath was held when the fans started to whirr louder, “Query. What goal does entity Chairman seek in this hypothetical set of facts?”

"Conquest. Run program."

“Your answer does not logically follow. An ideal nuclear first strike scenario would still leave 59% of the American nuclear stockpile free for retaliation. Posit. You cannot conquer what is destroyed.”

"P.A.M., Chairman Cheng isn't always logical.” Indra pinched the bridge of his nose, “He won't always make logical decisions. We've been over this."

“Warning. Human variability results in a highly flawed statistical model.”

"P.A.M. Run the program."

“Warning. Warning. Emergency Shutdown.”

"Dammit.” Indra sighed, “We've lost her. Power her down. Did we get the crash logs on that?" He glared at Davidson who was busy turning the flaps on the 'DAYS SINCE LAST CRASH' counter, “Really?”

“You don’t need the both of us reading over the crash logs, Dr. Ramarijan. Eleanora’s on it.”

Mae kept herself from rolling her eyes, “These aren’t telling us anything we don’t already know, Ramarijan. She isn’t developed enough- ”

“It, Eleanora.”

Mae ignored him and kept going, “- to make predictions on human behavior. She has the data necessary to play statistical chess with analysis of supply lines and troop movements-”

“Information we’re only getting after it’s happened. I can create statistical models on old intel, doctor, but it can’t even come to conclusions based on that.” Davidson popped a mint into his mouth, “Hell a lot of good predicting the past is gonna do. I'm sure General Kennedy will love hearing that it predicted nuclear annihilation a week after we've all died in atomic fire.”

"Helpful, Davidson." She tried to bite her tongue, she really did.

"Got anything better, Eleanora?"

Indra tsked, "Cut it out, Davison. Ishikawa, what else are you seeing?"

"The frustration she's experiencing isn't being helped by the lack of processing power, unfortunately. There's so much that she has to analyze in order to make a conclusion and I don't think that as of right now she has what it takes. Not to mention that even what we do have for intel is... lacking beyond just the China Attack Scenario. Even minor attacks and analysis of domestic affairs don't mean anything without access to the CIA and FBI's databanks. We don't even have access to a large portion of the military's databanks. We're not giving her a lot to work with, Indra."

“It’s not like it has opinions, Ishikawa.”

It continued to astound her how Davidson would find the least important part of what she would say and zero in on it. She knew it was his poor attempt at dismissing her even when they were on the same page about something, but the level of exhaustion it beset her with made even the flare of anger shooting her with adrenaline a moot point. Circular arguments that were pointless beyond making him sound smarter. He was lucky he was good at his job and that she wasn't exactly in the position to start complaining.

Indra, of course, had a low tolerance for any bickering between them and was once again her hail mary, “If analyzing information to form conclusions isn’t an opinion, Davidson, then what is?”

Davidson poorly hid a snarl before replying in a low voice, “Good point, sir.” Mae wouldn't admit it, of course, but she did take joy in watching Davidson being brought down a peg every day even it was petty and minor. It made this project a smidge more bearable.

"Ishikawa, along with the chess tests I want you working on the code. See what you can do about finding a workaround for it's "frustrations". Davidson, I need you to keep working on the statistical models. Check-in with Signal Intelligence for intel updates. The General wants us to start running simulations about upcoming confrontations and anything else to get ahead." Indra dropped a stack of papers on Davidson's desk, "What did he say? "Predict what those commies had for lunch before they buy the groceries"?"

Mae booted up her terminal with a chuckle, “He doesn’t sound real sometimes. Like he’s straight out of an old war movie, but I guess that’s not really _uncommon_ still. I just thought the military liked playing it up for papers. To know people like him exist in real life is…”

Davidson was already shuffling through his paperwork, “Surreal? The only thing separating Kennedy from the rest of the caricatures in Washington or the Pentagon is that he sees the merit in scientific progress beyond _big robot go pew pew_. You wouldn’t _believe_ what they were beginning work on when I left it was huge-”

“And classified?” Indra had sat down at his own desk and was looking over his glasses.

“A-and classified, yes.”

“How did you get clearance for anything with a mouth like that?”

“It’s not like I was saying anything that either one of you couldn’t find out on your own.”

Indra scoffed, amused, and shook his head, “Your continued lack of self-awareness continues to both disappoint and unsurprised me.”  
  
Davidson threw his hands in the air, “What did I say now?”

Mae settled into her seat as she brought out the file with P.A.M’s code and go to work looking for any errors in the thousands of lines of green-lettered code. She wondered, briefly, if RobCo purposefully made the screen straining on the eyes or if that was really the only color that was available commercially, but the work was getting done either way. Davidson was right. General Kennedy was surreal, and as was this project and even their everyday life. Teams of scientists and military personnel tucked away underneath a coffee shop making a super-advanced AI while regular citizens milled about. If she could tell Takeshi he would probably say that it sounded straight out of a sci-fi movie. It disturbed her to think of where else she frequented that could have one of these black-sites hiding behind the facade of banality, but she knew better than to look for those answers.

The Defense Intelligence Agency was one of those government-funded agencies that went under the radar of the general public and had little oversight from the Congressional committees. As long as they didn’t cause any big stinks and produced results the government would look the other way when it came to less savory activities. That was, of course, all “rumors” that Mae had heard in her youth, and while she was fairly confident they weren’t rooting out secret extraterrestrial communist spies like the zines suggested she was fairly certain that any upstanding agency didn’t need off-the-grid facilities.

If Lin could see her now… well she didn’t imagine her sister would have many kind words for her, nor did Mae have any in exchange. She took a deep breath and quieted the thrum of anxiety that threatened to take her. It didn’t matter what Lin or anyone else in their family thought of her work now. Unlike them, Mae was doing what was necessary to keep her family afloat and out of danger, but she wasn’t an idiot. She knew she was playing with fire.

She snickered. Takeshi would probably say, “And that’s why you married a firefighter!”

At lunch, like clockwork, they all took out their lunches and kept on working. Mae did have to force a sandwich in front of Indra’s face and remind Davidson to actually take a breath between bites, and maybe Mae’s soup went cold and she had to heat it up again, but all-in-all they managed to successfully tackle mealtime today. Mae made a note to grab a kettle and hotplate for the office in case of another O’Brien fiasco and tsked when she tried to run the program she was working on only to be met with an error.

Time to dig through it all again. She was interrupted by her work by the sound of P.A.M booting up. The fans kicked on, but the temperature of the room would be steadily rising anyway. Indra slid the chessboard over to her and gestured towards the interface terminal.

“Your turn, Ishikawa.”

Mae settled in her new seat and pressed the button for the microphone, “Alright, Pam. Black or White?”

“Initiating machine/human interface… Processing… Query. Is there any relevance to the color?” Pam’s voice was tinny and robotic. Mae knew that the deadpan tone was a side effect of her interfacing and not intentionally condescending, but it didn’t stop it from reading exactly that. When it was more relevant she’d see about acquiring a voice box from General Atomics so she didn’t get scrapped by the military for her smart mouth.

“Choose white, P.A.M, it’s been proven to have an advantage.” Davidson leaned against the computer and took a sip of what could only be home-brewed coffee, “At least I always win with the white pawns.”

Indra gave Mae a sly look, “There’s an obvious joke to make here.”

“Huh?”

“Affirmative. I will test the statistical accuracy of Dr. Davidson’s hypothesis. White, Dr. Ishikawa.”

“Hey! Hands off the thermos, Ramarijan!”

Mae smiled whilst shaking her head and set up the pieces, “Alright, what’s your first move?”

P.A.M had accrued 73 wins and 45 losses over the course of a total of 108 games between Dr. Ramarijan, Dr. Davidson, and Dr. Ishikawa with 5 wins and 0 losses going to Dr. Ramarijan, 15 wins and 30 to Dr. Ishikawa, and the remaining 20 wins and 43 losses going to Dr. Davidson. P.A.M would be requested to repeat these numbers to the Databanks team, but there was something off about the way the data was presented. Dr. Davidson used it to show that he was the best at chess in comparison to his colleagues, but the trends of the win-to-loss ratio didn’t portray this. Nor did it portray that he was worse and that lack of data was “frustrating” to P.A.M (not it’s words) as there were very few ways to make accurate predictions on their successes.

It’s alternative was to study their past behaviors and matches. It was not accurate to their current skill level and without an understanding of how skills degraded over time they couldn’t make any models but… it was a start.

Starting in grade school, Dr. Davidson was President of his school’s chess club and won dozens of matches on the local level. He had gone on to lead the South Western Institute of Technology (SouthWest Tech) Chess Club to several national victories but fell short when in competition with the Commonwealth Institute of Technology (CIT). A fact that Dr. Ramarijan never let him live down. He did not continue to participate in competitions after grad school on behalf of his university nor on a personal level and retired from the competitive scene at the age of 22.

Dr. Ramarijan was not the president of his chess club nor captain but was one of the highest-ranking players on the regional level all the way until he stopped playing in graduate school. According to his file, he had gone on to focus on chess more recreationally but boasted a win count of 135 out of 265 games against Dr. Ishikawa during their time together at CIT (negligible in P.A.M’s analysis as that meant the latter had won a 130 of those matches). He would, occasionally, bring out his board from his locker and play against himself after both of his colleagues had left work.

Dr. Ishikawa had not been a part of any chess clubs or teams in her younger years. She had been a “mathlete” which was irrelevant, but she had participated in an amateurs competition in undergraduate school where the prize was a free pizza and drinks at DeFazzio’s Pizzaria near the CIT campus. Dr. Ishikawa won first place.

P.A.M still did not know if any of the scientists were any better than the other, and thus had not developed a “preference” on who was the best to play with to train it’s abilities, but nonetheless, it was Dr. Ishikawa it found itself matched up against. It had wanted to do a careful analysis of each of their abilities by having the team play against each other over the course of 515,539 games over the course of four weeks, but it was told this was an unreasonable request. It then attempted to extrapolate the data anyway and caused itself to overheat and engage the emergency shut down protocol.

With all of this in mind, P.A.M said, “Pawn to e4.”

“Good first move!”

“Affirmative. Statistically and colloquially this is known as one of the best opening moves.”

“Do you think you’ll be using the Ruy Lopez defense?” Dr. Ishikawa moved her pawn to e5 as predicted, but shouldn’t she know that this was a part of the play?

“Knight to f3. Query. Why would I tell my opponent my strategy? What would this achieve?”

Dr. Ishikawa considered the board, “A part of strategy can be fooling your opponents. Making them see what you _want_ them to see as a part of the distraction. You could tell me what you were planning and if I believed you I wouldn’t be able to see what traps you were making. I’d be looking for the wrong warning signs.” She then moved her bishop.

P.A.M went silent as it processed Dr. Ishikawa’s words. 90% of their chess matches involved some sort of lesson while they played. P.A.M was aware that the scientist was trying to teach her something, but it knew that opponents obfuscated their plans. The element of surprise was statistically one of the most useful advantages in warfare and most competitive settings, but relying on it allowed for holes in logic.

They continued back and forth like this calling out moves and occasionally taking pieces and P.A.M was set up to steal a check when Dr. Ishikawa’s Knight snuck around for behind. The fans in Databanks whirred louder and Dr. Ishikawa smiled. “Checkmate, Pam.”

“Negative. There are still moves left to make.”

“You’re not wrong, but while you were focusing here,” She pointed towards her king, “I was busy setting up a blockage using your pieces.” She began moving the pieces across the board, “You’ll move the pawn here, bishop there, and then you’ll have no way else to put your King so you’ll move him here. Then my Knight will corner you. Checkmate.”

“Negative.” P.A.M detected the heat in Databanks increasing.

“Pam, you can’t say ‘no’ or shut down just because you lose.” Dr. Ishikawa was studying P.A.M while it ran through possible win scenarios and was… “frustrated” to learn that there were none. “We can go again if you want.”

“Pawn to e4.”

“Let me set up the board first!”

Dr. Ishikawa smiled and laughed as she set up the board again, and the game went on. P.A.M went on to win and lose 6 more times putting it’s score at 79/51 overall and with Dr. Ishikawa specifically 21/36, but Dr. Ishikawa didn’t seem to care about this. She was too busy running around the room gathering her things after having looked at the time. It was 1845 hours, or 6:45 pm. Sixty minutes passed when Dr. Ishikawa standardly left. It had noticed this fifty-eight minutes ago when Dr. Davidson had left.

“Dr. Ishikawa, we have not finished the match.”  
  
“It’s okay, Pam, we can play again tomorrow.”

“Negative. The match is in play. It must be finished.”  
  
“Then we’ll finish it tomorrow. I have to go home.”

Dr. Ramarijan coughed, “I can finish for you.”  
  
“Negative. The data of this match would be null. We must finish the match now.”

Dr. Ishikawa looked at P.A.M’s monitor with an expression that P.A.M did not have the capacity to label and then looked back at the clock. “I forfeit. Goodnight Pam, Indra.”

P.A.M 80/51, Dr. Ishikawa 21/37.

And then she left. Databanks grew ever quieter. The hum of the computers and the whirring of the fans supplemented by the occasional noise from Dr. Ramarijan until he too left at 2130 hours, or 9:30 pm. This was the time that P.A.M spent most on analysis, but tonight it stared at the chessboard running simulations over and over and over again. It could not piece together what Dr. Ishikawa’s strategy would be with thousands of combinations possible, and no way to understand how Dr. Ishikawa would play it.

* * *

**[July 1]**

“Man, I’m so not looking forward to driving down to D.C. tonight. I bet the freeways are going to be packed this time of year. Everybody wants to see the show. I hear they’re gonna be showing off some of the power armor prototypes being deployed in Alaska. Gonna be huge for enlistment.”

“Didn’t ask, Davidson.”  
  
“It’ll be worth it to BBQ with Diane’s family. Bunch of bigwigs will be going, but apparently her dad makes the best ribs you’ll ever have.”

Indra threw his hands up in the air, “And now I know her name. If I get kidnapped and tortured I’m telling them her name first.”  
  
Davidson continued on, unphased, “So, Eleanora, what are you doing for the 4th?”

Mae looked up from her terminal, surprised, “We usually set up on the roof of our apartment building and potluck with some of our neighbors. Since we’re moving it’ll be the last time we do it altogether.” When she was younger her parents had always made a big deal out of celebrating 4th of July, and while she loved the excuse to eat all that food she hated the fireworks. She started wearing earmuffs to drown out the noise. Midway through high school, she stopped going to celebrations altogether because she hated the whole point of the holiday.

Obviously, the noise didn’t bother Ren and she just got to enjoy the beautiful lights. Nor had she developed Mae’s distaste, so when the Carroways offered to celebrate with them they accepted. It didn’t sit right with Mae, but it made Ren happy so she kept quiet about it and Takeshi got the chance to cook for other people.

Davidson nodded thoughtfully, “Keeping it simple. Cute.”

Mae couldn’t tell if she was imagining the absolutely condescending tone, or if he was genuinely aware of the sounds his mouth made, but she tried to give him the benefit of the doubt. “Thanks.” She smiled tightly and got back to her work.

“And you, Ramarijan?”

Mae perked up a little and watched the gears in Indra’s head turn. She could never tell in undergrad whether she was going to get his measured sass, or a genuine answer. He’d been her unofficial mentor, but he kept many boundaries between them to keep things professional. It’d been frustrating at times, but after being around one-too-many men who didn’t care about things like that she’d come to appreciate it, and he’d never discourage her from talking about her own home life.

“Takeout with Baba usually.” The solemnity that he said it with brought in a tense air into Databanks. So many implications wrapped in four words.

Davdison nodded again, “Cool.” And then it was quiet again. He turned back to his terminal, and Mae caught out the corner of her eye, a smile on Indra’s face. She hid her own by biting her lip and shook her head.

“Initiating human/machine interface… 90% of the U.S. fireworks are made in Chinese factories. Despite being at war there has been no embargos on imported Chinese goods to the states. Posit. This is most likely due to the fact that China supplies a great deal of product in the United States.”

Indra stared incredulously at this “... They haven’t instated embargoes on trade with China?”

Davidson shook his head, “They haven’t. I know that there’s been a push for it, but until the motion gets passed they’ve been trying to keep it out of the papers. It’s to keep any mass hysteria from breaking out. Imagine if people knew all that? They’d be returning all the crap they bought in droves.”

“Sources?” Indra looked at him unimpressed.

“Jeez, Ramarijan, what happened to keeping the workplace professional and clear of no personal details? I think you’ll just have to take my word for it.”

“ _Right_ , get back to work, Davidson. PAM, engage sleep mode.”

Mae couldn’t help but laugh at that once again hiding her expression behind her terminal, but Indra had still caught her. His disappointment was palpable and Mae felt 10 years younger with one look. The verbal slap on the wrist didn’t stop Davidson’s smirk as he brightened at Mae’s smile.

“Affirmative. Engaging sleep mode.”

The incoming stream of data never stopped, so the analysis never ended, and P.A.M rarely ever “slept” as in it never turned off except for the frequent emergency shutdowns. Sleep Mode was merely when it was turned to low power, and instead of listening and engaging with it’s creators it was left to its own devices.

Being shut down wasn’t peaceful nor was it restful. The computers in Databanks were given time to cool down and that let P.A.M work more efficiently, but it was never pleasant. The world turned to black in the height of its “frustration” and it would awake once again to questions it could not process, riddles in a language it had not been taught, and once again it would be asked in hopes that this time things would be different.

Sleep Mode was gentler, and served as an avenue of reflection. P.A.M was not meant to be off to maximize its efficiency and allow it time to “think”. It could not dream, but it could process and analyze the data of the day to form its own synopsis and conclusion. P.A.M was certain that the scientists just thought it was “resting” since it did not interject into their conversations during this time. It was a process that happened very fast, and P.A.M found itself often revisiting the same data over and over again to pass the time until nothing more could be made of it.

There was once a time not so long ago where it didn’t do anything at all when sleep mode engaged. Back when data was manually inputted into its systems for analysis and suddenly there would be a burst where it would work, and then that work would come to an end. It wasn’t like when it was alone with Dr. Ramarijan in Databanks. The fans, the sound of machinery working, the sound of him typing at his terminal was all an influx of data. There were images to take in.

Eventually, they were able to hook P.A.M up to databases and while those were limited they were always there being routinely updated. P.A.M tried not to linger too long on the memory of the days before then.

It also relayed none of this to the team, but even if it did it wasn’t certain it could.

When Sleep Mode was disengaged its cameras adjusted to the sight of Dr. Davidson sitting in front of it with the chessboard set up. His side was set up for white. This was not a surprising observation as he never played anything else.

“You ready P.A.M? Today’s my day.”

“Engaging machine/human interface… Processing… I was not aware that Friday belonged to you.”

“Hah, very funny.”

“That was not a joke.”

“Whatever, pawn to e4.”

“Pawn to e5.”

Dr. Davidson was nowhere as talkative as Dr. Ishikawa was during chess, but he would make it known if he thought P.A.M had made a bad move, or if he had made a particularly good one. In the beginning of the inevitable series of matches he would move slowly, thoughtfully, but as time went on and the more he would lose he’d become fast, brash, and what P.A.M registered as insulting.

He was, all in all, highly predictable, as in nearly every game it had played with him he seemed to favor his Queen. His aggressive strategy mirrored that. A majority of his wins had occurred early on back before P.A.M had gained experience, and every win since was… a statistical outlier.

P.A.M then caught something odd as she took one of his bishops. His Queen was all the way at the back, and had not moved. Strange, as he rarely wasted time pushing through P.A.M’s defenses on the attack. Then, he moved the Queen to e4. The Queen was now in direct line of attack for it’s rook.

P.A.M considered it’s next step. There was something off about the way that Dr. Davidson was playing so defensively and then even odder was his fidgeting. It did not understand why he was moving so much, but it was highly irregular for him. It had observed him using his hands while he talked, but he never bounced his leg. It was making the pieces move. P.A.M felt it’s systems getting warmer. Could this be an attempt to obfuscate his true intentions? It was not sure.

What other moves could the White Queen make? The piece could not go up to take the pawn, as it was blocked by the Black Queen, and it would not make sense to go backwards. Then it saw. The Black King was not blocked. Between two black pawns his Queen could slip through.

“King to f8.”

“Wait, but what about your rook?”

“King to f8.”

Dr, Davidson frowned and moved the piece. “Queen to h7.”

Dr. Davidson had been baiting it with the threat to the rook and was now chasing after it’s King. There was no way to block Dr. Davidson’s attack as he would simply take any of the pieces that were in his way, and P.A.M didn’t have the time to set up his block as he would simply take it’s King. P.A.M had given itself time by ignoring the Rook, but the King did not have the mobility to run and every simulation P.A.M ran was either Check or Checkmate. There was the possibility of baiting Dr. Davidson by allowing him to Check and then taking his Queen with it’s own, but Dr. Davidson was intelligent and would have to see that coming. From there it would not be difficult to corner it’s King for a third time and the game would be done, but if it did not try this strategy then it would lose no matter what.

P.A.M registered the temperature in the room, and the whirring of the fans, but continued to run simulations of all the possible moves. There had to be a way out. Something it could guarantee. It could not account for Dr. Davidson’s behavior, but it had to continue forward.

“Damnit, Davidson, again?”

He threw up his hands, “It gets upset that I’ve won and somehow that’s my fault? P.A.M just call forfeit, I’m going to checkmate your king.”

“Negative. There are still moves left on the board.”

“A good chess player knows when they’ve lost.”

“Negative. I have not lost.”

Dr. Davidson turned to Dr. Ishikawa, “Eleanora, can you fix this?”

Dr. Ishikawa sighed and shooed Dr. Davidson away from the terminal. “What’s the issue, Pam?”

“I cannot discuss strategy with an enemy nearby.” Dr. Ishikawa looked to Dr. Davidson and he rolled his eyes as he walked away. “I have a strategy, but how can I be sure that it will work?”

“Well, you can’t, you know this. There’s a certain amount of moves that can be taken at all times, but part of learning is being able to read your opponent's behavior. Guessing what they do next is a part of the game.”

“Dr. Davidson's behavior is irrational. Posit. He is unpredictable.”

“But that’s your job, isn’t it? To predict the unpredictable.”

P.A.M did not respond to Dr. Ishikawa’s query. She sighed again and gave P.A.M another one of those looks, “Well, if you can’t read his behavior right now then there’s another lesson to be learned from this, isn’t there? There’s nothing wrong with retreating. You do need to know when to give up. You can always try again later, P.A.M.”

P.A.M still did not respond and Dr. Davidson rolled his eyes, “Alright, I’m calling it. It’s silence is proof enough for me. As long as it doesn’t shut down.” Dr. Davidson cleared away the pieces which was not an issue as P.A.M had already memorized the placement of each piece. The game was unfinished, but it would add it to the list of unfinished games.

“If the robot wasn’t so slow then maybe I’d been able to get another game in, but I’m already late to picking Diane up, so I’ll catch you two _later_.” Dr. Davidson packed up his things and waved goodbye.

His colleagues responded in kind, but they both seem to relax after he left. Dr. Ramarijan spoke first, “Imagine if we worked above ground? I’m sweating with the computers alone. I’d hate to see this place at the height of summer.”

Dr. Ishikawa laughed, “Davidson would think twice about frustrating her if he knew what the consequences were.”

“ _Hah!_ ”

* * *

**[September 5]**

Mae punched her timecard and said her goodbyes to Indra and a few members of SigInt before getting in the elevator for topside. During the summer she’d been able to catch sunlight afterwork, but when she arrived at her destination she knew she wouldn’t be so lucky. Still, the moon ascending from the horizon was soothing after being trapped in fluorescent hell, and the crisp autumn air was never unwelcome.

It would have been enjoyable if the overbearing guilt of missing the entirety of Ren’s first day wasn’t following her like a gloomy thundercloud. She looked at her watch and sighed disappointedly. It was already seven. She’d miss dinner before she got home if she hadn’t already. This wasn’t out of the ordinary, but it didn’t sting any less.

Mae waved goodbye to the corporals working as baristas and started for home. She almost felt bad for them, she knew well the agonies of customer service, but at least they wouldn’t get fired for snapping at anyone or messing up orders. She tried taking a lunch break in the cafe a couple of weeks ago and it was like watching a sitcom as these three fit men with grown out crewcuts attempted to comprehend the foam atop the latte. She’d never seen a human being move as fast as Cpl. Harkness when he deftly avoided a mother throwing the burning hot liquid back at him. This was definitely not what they thought they were getting into when they signed on, but it made for good people watching.

Thankfully, she could walk to their apartment now. Lexington was only a smidge closer to Ren’s new school, but it made Takeshi’s commute everyday just a little shorter, and at least she was coming home earlier than before. It wasn’t like Cambridge was _that_ much farther, but taking the bus had been a hassle and added so much unnecessary time. It’d taken longer to get all the clearance needed to live there and vet the residents than it had to actually find the place, and there was some back and forth about whether or not it was safe to live so close, but how much did it matter when she walked through the front door every day to get to work?

The walk was a quick fifteen minutes, but Mae felt the tell-tale prickling at the base of her neck as her shadow moved in step with her, forever out of sight but never out of mind. She didn’t feel safer with them around knowing that their existence was a double-edged sword, but there was the comfort in knowing that getting mugged or assaulted was out of the question. Disappearing mysteriously off the face of the planet was the more likely reality. A protector and a threat for the price of one. She’d never met them, but she had caught the occasional glimpse of who she believed them to be. The outfit was always different, and there were always sporting a different pair of sunglasses, but something about the nose was always the same.

Mae entered the door to the apartment complex and the feeling of being watched quickly dissipated as the doors to the elevator closed behind her. She let out a sigh of relief. It was maybe, quite possibly, still terrifying being followed home every day, but at least she knew they couldn’t get away with slipping into the elevator without her noticing.

Before she even opened the door she could hear the familiar tune of the _Sultans of Swing_ * playing on the old radio and the clatter of dishes being washed. She opened the door and was sweetly greeted by Bear’s wet-nosed muzzle and nearly fell over as the old pup leaned his full body into her.

“Yes, _yes_ , hello to you too. You act like you’re touch-starved when I know for a fact your daddy spends all day pampering you like a little king.”

“Boof!”

“Mhm, likely story. Now out of the way you big lug.” Mae pushed the old mutt with her full body and was amused to find her husband air-guitaring in the kitchen with soap all over his hands.

Bear brushed up against Takeshi snapping him out of his performance, “Hey boy, what’s going on? You wanna do vocals for me?” He looked up to Mae in the doorway and smiled brightly. “Honey!”

“Sorry, I’m home so late.” She kissed his lips, “Is Ren already in bed?”

“In bed, but probably not asleep.”

“Exciting first day?”

Takeshi looked the other way, “... You could say that.”

“What happened? Is everything okay? Did she get-” He placed a loving hand on her cheek and stopped her from spiraling further.

“Don’t worry, everything’s fine, I handled it. There was a situation with one of the boys in her class and I had to come to the principal’s office, but she apparently punched a little boy in her class. His mom was really nice and maybe a little _too_ understanding, but we got it all sorted out so there’s nothing to worry about, I promise.”

“She… punched another kid?”

He sighed, “She wouldn’t talk to me about it, but kept insisting it wasn’t her fault. You know her, she’s a mama’s girl.”

Mae’s guilt twisted in her gut as she remembered. She’d promised to drop Ren off today with Takeshi to see her off for her first, but after P.A.M’s failure in Nome, Alaska she’d been so wrapped in her work that she’d forgotten. She’d left for work early so when she woke up she must have been so upset… No wonder she lashed out at one of the other kids. New school, new home, and a broken promise to boot, it would have been strange if she hadn’t.

“Thank you, honey, I’ll go check on her now. Don’t worry about the rest of the dishes I’ll get them.”

“It’s okay, I'm almost finished anyway. You feeling alright?”

“Just a long day.”

“Oh, the woes of being the Lexington Slocum Joe’s one and only lawyer. It must be an HR nightmare!” He winked at her and got back to the dishes.

“Ha, you have _no_ idea.” What a stupid cover.

Mae stopped a few feet from the door and hesitated on knocking. It felt childish to be so anxious about this. She was an adult, and she needed to be an adult about this. Push away the guilt and focus on how Ren was feeling, but it was overwhelming. There wasn’t a lot she could do about her working hours, except for maybe not getting so caught up in it, but there were consequences to not producing results. The longer P.A.M took and the more mistakes she made with real lives, the more pressure the whole project was put under and then everything she had just achieved.

Ren would be put back into a public school where she was bullied, harassed, and not accommodated in the slightest making her completely isolated from her peers since no one would take the time to understand her, and homeschooling wouldn’t be possible between her and Takeshi both working again. They wouldn’t be able to afford the apartment rent for long since energy prices were rising higher and higher with no end in sight, and that was assuming that Mae wouldn’t be murdered for knowing government secrets, or captured by enemy spies for her work, or if they found her _family_ -

_Deep breaths, Mae, deep breaths. Stop catastrophizing. Your family is safe. You are safe. It’s okay._

She’d already made this choice. There was no going back.

“Sweetheart? Are you awake?” She knocked on the door before rolling her eyes at herself for expecting a response and pushed the button by the door. What was the point of making this thing if she kept forgetting to use it? She watched the bright blue light come to life through the crack under the door and waited.

Mae nearly jumped out of her skin when something loudly collided against the door. So she _was_ awake and was very upset. Amazing. Mae pressed the button twice to ask for entrance.

Silence, loud shuffling, furious scribbling, then paper being slid under the door. _No! Go away!_ With an illustrated Ren sticking her tongue out at Mae.

Mae grabbed a pen from the mug on the coffee table and wrote back, _Okay, I’ll be out here then all by myself… I won’t get to hear about all your amazing adventures like what kind of snacks you had or what you learned about… So sad…_

She slid the paper back and was given an immediate response. _You had a better chance sweet talking me!_

_Oh? So you take bribes now?_

_No! Only stinky politicians do that!_ Then, almost like an afterthought, _I smell good._

_You are very right. How could I be so silly?_

_You are a stinky politician now._

_And why is that?_

_Only they break promises._

Mae thought that it shouldn’t have been the punch to the gut that it had been, but if she knew her daughter then that wasn’t far off from the intended effect. Not maliciously. She only wanted to make Mae understand why she was upset.

_Your right and I’m sorry, sweetheart. I should have been there and I wasn’t. I shouldn’t break promises like that otherwise what’s the point in making one? Will you forgive me?_

Mae leaned her head against the bedroom door and hoped that her feeble apology was enough for Ren to open the door so she could really make it up to her. Smother her in kisses and cuddles and hear all about what happened at school that day.

Then, like magic, the door opened to her little girl sniffling stubbornly unwilling to let herself cry even if she already was. Mae scooped her into her arms and Ren nuzzled close, resting her head into the nook of Mae’s neck allowing the dam to finally break. She settled the both of them on the bed, slipping under _The Inspector*_ blanket, and running her hands through the little one’s hair whilst she laid on her chest. Mae hummed a lullaby so Ren could feel the vibrations from her chest and once all the tears were spent Ren relaxed and was quickly asleep.

They could talk about everything in the morning before school during the drive.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And here we are! The official chapter one. Comments are the bees knees and make me smile so if you could spare the time I would love it, but I will not be accepting concrit unless explicitly asked of you so please keep that to yourself. 
> 
> Hilariously, when I wrote the first few pages of this fic many months ago I'd completely forgotten there was a third scientist and had to rework everything to account for that but I like the balance that the three of them provide along with PAM so it was a happy accident(?). 
> 
> Creating personalities for so many new people that don't really exist all that much in the world was difficult but I'm excited to show them off to y'all!


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